


There Was an Attempt

by shezni



Category: Starfighter (Comic)
Genre: M/M, slight non-con?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-23
Updated: 2013-01-23
Packaged: 2017-11-26 13:31:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/651004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shezni/pseuds/shezni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Praxis awakes to find himself in a "compromising" position. Extreme awkwardness ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There Was an Attempt

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by page 41. This was kind of a spur of the moment thing, so it might seem a bit rough since it was kinda rushed. That being said, concrit is very much appreciated! Also, I wasn't sure if I should have used the archive warning for non-con on this or not, so if your uncomfortable with the content, please let me know and I'll be happy to make the appropriate adjustments!

               Praxis awoke from a dead sleep, wincing at the glaring fluorescent light shining in his face. His head throbbed mercilessly and he moaned, the groggy sound assaulting his tender sense of hearing. God, how many had he _had_ last night? He wasn’t a stranger around the bar ever since his navigator had been killed in the dogfight that took his eye, and he’d been even more of a regular ever since the new kid moved in. Even so, he knew how to hold his liquor and he rarely had more than two or three beers a night. He vaguely recalled Cain bragging about his “relations” with Abel during battle simulations the day before, which in and of itself would warrant about six beers more than normal. Praxis tried to remember more, but there was nothing but the dull, beating pain filling his head. He sighed and swung his feet over the side of the bunk so he could drag himself over to the bathroom.

               Or he would have, if he could have moved his feet at all.

               Praxis’ eyes snapped open wide as he slowly became aware of his distressing situation. His feet were strapped to either corner of the bed, rendering him immobile. His arms, too, were incapacitated, bound together clumsily with tape and pulled back over his head with yet another rope. He was completely nude aside from a too-tight leather jockstrap and a pair of woolen socks. There was a round sphere stuffed in his mouth and held there by a strap, stretching his jaw out uncomfortably. Praxis struggled helplessly, flailing left and right in hopes that the knots weren’t tied well. It was no use. The trapped fighter tugged futilely one last time and then collapsed, head hurting worse than ever. Suddenly, a thought struck him. These walls were thin and surely one of his neighbors was in. He took a deep breath and tried to let out a cry for help.

               _SQUEAK._

               Oh.

               It was a _squeaky_ ball. There was a squeaky ball in his mouth. He’d been gagged by a fucking _dog toy_. Praxis nearly screamed in rage, but that would only cause him to squeak again, so he simply sat there, tied up and seething. Cain must be behind this, he thought furiously. He got his little bitch Deimos to sneak into the room and tie him up for laughs. He groaned as he thought of the pictures that were probably making their way through the barracks as he lay there. Praxis pulled at his ropes with a renewed frustration, vowing to beat the pulp out of that stupid dog as soon as he showed his ugly face anywhere near him.

               After a few more moments of struggling and frustration (and the occasional squeak), the door slid open silently and Praxis froze in horror as his messy-haired, overly friendly navigator Ethos walked into the room, whistling jauntily with a small case in his hand. Praxis flailed and attempted to somehow explain his situation and plead for help, but all that came out his mouth were unintelligible grunts.

               Ethos chuckled heartily at his fighter’s expense. “Say, you look a little tied up, Praxis.” An alarm instantly went off in Praxis’ mind. From what he knew about this new kid, he was as pure as stardust. He should have been freaking out or at least a little embarrassed. The fighter glared at his new roommate with disdain and mistrust. He watched as the smile faded from Ethos’ face and he became sheepish. “Okay, that was…that was kinda lame.” The blond navigator scratched the back of his head nervously, then straightened up and shook himself, as if to steel his nerves. Ethos set his case down on the desk and started to sort through its contents, the lost smile slowly returning to his features.

               “You know, you shouldn’t have had so much to drink last night,” Ethos admonished, pulling out what looked to Praxis like an extension cord. “Although I have to say, you sure made things easier for me.”

               Ethos let one end of the cord fall to the floor, and Praxis’ blood froze. It was not an extension cord. It was not an extension cord at all.

               Ethos twirled the whip around his hand, moving toward Praxis in what he assumed was supposed to be a seductive swagger. It honestly just looked like the navigator had something uncomfortable in his pants, and it was all Praxis could do not to roll his eyes. Ethos leaned over the bound fighter and dragged the end of the whip slowly down the center of his chest, making Praxis shiver despite himself.

               “You know, you really shouldn’t have ignored me, Praxis,” Ethos murmured. “I picked up some tips from a navigator friend of mine on how to best… _tame_ you. After today, I’m sure we’ll be able to get along…or _else_.”

               Ethos flung his arm outward in an attempt to crack the whip, but it simply flopped in the air before the tip fell limply to the floor. Praxis let out a derisive snicker at the expense of his captor, who flushed red with embarrassment. His attempts at being a sexy dominator were somewhat dampened by the fact that he was still wearing his regulation uniform and he was further impeded by the fact that he seemed to have no damn clue what he was doing.

               “Um, uh, just a minute.” Ethos flung his arm wildly trying to produce the desired intimidating crack until he struck his hand on the side of the bunk with a loud bang. He yelped in pain but continued to fling the weapon with a dogged determination, much to Praxis’ wonder. He though he heard several attempts at dirty talk (“naughty puppy-dog”?) thrown in the mix, but at this point Praxis was filled with more pity than sexual intimidation or rage.

               Suddenly, a burning pain struck Praxis’ side as a harsh snap rang out through the tiny room. He winced and looked down at his side to see an angry red gash cutting through his white skin. Ethos dropped the whip in horror and staggered back, a trembling hand covering his mouth.

               “I’m…I’m so sorry!” he choked, eyes wet with tears. “Oh God, I didn’t…I didn’t mean to! I was only trying to…trying to…” The navigator sniffled loudly and ran over to his desk, searching the drawers frantically. He pulled a first-aid kit out of his bottom drawer and rushed back over to Praxis, undoing his bonds and tripping over his own apologies.

               Despite the stinging pain in his side and the indignity of the squeaky ball, Praxis couldn’t help but feel a bit sorry for his hapless partner. He sighed heavily and placed a hand on the sobbing young man’s shoulder.

               “Look, I don’t know what the hell you were thinking, and honestly, I don’t want to know. Ever. But if this was because of my coldness towards you then…I’m sorry.”

               Ethos looked up at Praxis in amazement. “You…aren’t mad?”

               “Of course I’m mad!” Praxis snapped. “You tied me up, whipped me and put a squeaky dog toy in my mouth! Do I look like some kind of saint to you?”

               Ethos ducked his head in shame. “Look, I know I did wrong but…well, the navigator I talked to…he didn’t actually tell me anything useful about how to…how to connect with you and I’ve heard about what he gets up to with his own fighter so I thought…maybe…this would be the answer.”

               Praxis sighed heavily and shook his head. He had known this kid would be a pain, but this was completely unprecedented. Somehow, he was too bewildered to be properly angry. This kid clearly had some growing up to do, and the fighter hadn’t exactly help him adjust to living in the cold, unforgiving reaches of space. Despite his situation, his sense of pity only deepened.

               “Look,” Praxis replied, “I should beat the crap out of you for what you did. But since we’re partners and we have to work together to get back to friendly space in one piece, I’ll let you off easy this time. So let’s make a deal. I’ll be around to talk more and you chuck that whip into space. Deal?”

               Ethos chuckled and wiped the remaining tears from his eyes. “Deal.”

               They shook hands firmly and Praxis was filled with a sense of warmth he had experienced in a long time. Maybe this kid was crazy, but he had spirit, and after all that had happened, he could use a bit of more spirit in his life.

               Ethos broke the connection suddenly, his face somehow managing to get even more red than it already was. “Um, I’ll just…go get the first aid kit,” he stammered, hopping off the bed and shuffling to the bathroom to rummage through the drawers. Praxis leaned back and rubbed his sore wrists, letting out the first genuine laugh he’d had in a long time.

               No matter how this turns out, he thought to himself, the last thing it’ll be is boring. 


End file.
